


Vermilion

by yeetocheeto



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Coming Untouched, Face-Sitting, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, buuuuut its resolved quick af and is v minor so dont be put off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeetocheeto/pseuds/yeetocheeto
Summary: “Maybe I need to muzzle you? Hmm?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> *pulls this out of my butthole* im aware this reads like it was written by a 12 yr old on deviantart but yeah hope you enjoy  
> ( and ya there are a lot of grammatical errors but i think they add character lmfao tense isnt real times an illusion )
> 
> ASLO URGENT: DONT BIND AND EXERCISE!! USE A SNUG SPORTS BRA!!

“Slow down, Kyou,” Watari laughed, ‘You’re going too hard”

 

_ ‘If I had a dollar for every time I heard that,’ _ Yahaba thought.

 

All Watari got was a grunt and Kyoutani stalking off to get another ball to start an assault on the first years, all of them scared to begin but even more scared to refuse. 

Watari shot Yahaba a helpless look, and Yahaba could only shrug.

 

He had been like this all practice, all force and no accuracy, just itching for a fight: if anyone looked at him too long they got a scolding glare, bared teeth if unlucky. 

 

It wasn’t disappointing, but somewhat confusing, as he had subtly transformed over the past year. The hot-headed boy had turned into an (albeit grouchy) talented young man with tender potential. He was the ace of seijou and a force of nature. His unwavering strength and stubbornness had been tamed by his keeper through coaxing words and promising touches, leaving a more malleable kind of energy. 

 

Yahaba learnt to direct that energy.

 

He knows Kyoutani used to struggle with that, something charged with all his negative emotions, and he needed an outlet. While he used to swallow his pain, heated or painful moments would bring out and he’d blow up at others, Yahaba included.

 

While he used to take the anger out on Yahaba now he can’t. Not that he wants to either; it makes him feel awful and it  _ hurts  _ him. The closest thing to fighting is the gentle teasing they put each other through. They pick at each other without any bitterness, only a warm endearment and desire to get a reaction from the other. Affection was always going to be strange between. 

 

Unfortunately, said object of affection was currently serving alarming close to the others.

 

“...That’s a good serve.” Yahaba mutters to himself, impressed with Kyoutani’s power but still pissed off. He really isn’t in the mood to praise the spiker with his shitty behaviour. 

 

This was something else. While someone else might think Kyoutani was grumpier than usual, Yahaba was a living Kyoutani mood detector

 

Yahaba balances a his weight on his hip. "Babe~," He chimes in a way he knows Kyou hates, feigning nonchalance, "Try to not kill someone in practice, save it for the matches."

 

“Don’t you want me to hit hard?” He growled.

 

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

 

Kyoutani huffed, flashing a mirthless grin, before he bounced the ball and struck a violent serve.  He stiffly walked away, cracking his knuckles, to grab a new ball before the ball had even stopped rolling. Yahaba was left with the balls woosh and  hard  smack echoing in his ears. 

 

He knew he couldn’t force him to do anything, and he couldn’t just  _ shout  _ at him whenever he irritated him. What should he do? There was no way he could control him. Yahaba had to set up boundaries and enforce them, and Kyoutani was the only person who could grate on him like this. He had responsibilities as captain and this was becoming an itch he just couldn’t scratch. More importantly was their relationship being secret, so he couldn’t favour him in public. Offering too much support could expose something he didn’t really want to in high school.

 

It wouldn’t matter right now anyway, since Kyoutani hadn’t spoken more than a sentence to him this practice. 

 

The line was crossed when Kindaichi, poor, sweet Kindaichi, just about had a stroke when Kyoutani was one step off shoulder charging him when they brushed past each other. 

 

God, sometimes he’s like a dog that hasn’t been trained.

 

“ _ Enough _ !!” 

 

Yahaba heard it roar through the hall, stunning even himself. He didn’t even mean to shout. He especially didn’t intend to for the entire team to freeze in their tracks, staring at the offender, wondering what the hell was happening.

 

He could have cut the silence with a knife. Time seemed to stop, focusing in on the dust particles illuminated by the gym windows streaming light. He could taste the  salt of sweaty skin over his cherry chapstick, taste the warm air electric with fire.  Watari just looked at him in question before transforming into vice-captain mode. 

 

“Ah, ok, well, it’s time to finish up. Now.”

 

The team made a half-assed effort to not look at the Kyoutani and the captain staring eachother down, but seemed to get the hint and uneasily began to pack up practice. 

 

Kyoutani squinted at the taller boy under the sunlight and Yahaba couldn’t help notice that the sunlight glowed around him like a halo. Yahaba walked briskly up to him and raised his brows.

 

“Don’t you have any respect for me? At all!?”

 

Kyoutani sneered and turned around.

 

“I have shit to do Kyou!”

 

There was a sharp bark of laughter. “Trust me! I’ve fucking noticed!” 

 

Yahaba flushed with guilt. He wasn’t the only one withholding words. When was the last time he said I love you? Was he really so busy or just negligent?

 

“I-I, we need to pack up.”

 

Those blazing amber eyes grew dark. Yahaba felt his stomach churn watching him walking away, hearing the squeak of sneakers on kempas floor. 

 

\--

 

Yahaba followed him into the changing rooms later with his tail between his legs. This part of practice was the worst for him anyway, and their tension wasn't helping his nerves; the agitation almost radiated of the boy ahead of him. All he could do was follow him nervously into the room and quickly locate his bag, painfully, (painfully) reminding him how this behavior wasn't all that different from the previous month. He really had been negligent, and for what reason? His fear of commitment? No, he knew why he had been avoiding his relationship. Thinking about it would make him sick, so he focused on the white noise of aimless chatter.

 

A positive of Aoba Jousai was the single-stall showers divided in the back. Yahaba shuffled his tired body into the cubicle and locked the door, sighing in relief. The privacy offered something communal changing rooms couldn't. He placed his bags on the small bench and turned the shower to scalding. Once the steam started to cloud the air he pulled off his shirt only to grimace at the sweat soaked binder he’d still have to put back on to walk home. He couldn’t  _ not  _ wear it, because they team didn’t know and didn't  _ need  _ to know, and if Oikawa could live with an achy mid-section, so could he. He settled for twisting out of it and spraying the shit out of it with some anti-perspirant, and moping in the shower.

 

Leaning his head against the hard tile he concentrated on the running of water. The sound of his teammates usually served as entertaining background noise, but today the sound of two idiot first years in the stalls next to him was becoming old quick. They didn’t seem to know how loud they were, because Yahaba could make out every bit of their conversation regardless of whether he wanted to. He wasn’t at all interested until he heard a familiar name whispered.

 

“Yeah, Yahaba needs to fucking muzzle him...”

 

Suddenly feeling overheated, he stepped out from the stream of water and turned the shower off. Changing back into his uniform he felt conflicted on whether he should reprimand the first years or get on with his afternoon. His decision was made when he saw Kyoutani waiting for him by the changing room doors. It wasn’t like he thought he’d leave without him, but seeing him there made relief bloom from his chest, diffusing into his bones. 

 

Kyoutani held open the door for him and they walked into the warm early evening.

 

\--

 

His third year was great, and he was becoming a captain that would rival Oikawa. Maybe his serves weren’t as deadly, nor did he have a fan club, but he understood his team mates, and that’s what made him and the previous captain so successful. He was considerate, attentive and accommodating to everyone on the team, devoting as much of his scarce time as he could to them.

 

Unfortunately, that meant some readjusting for others. 

 

“Are you ready to tell me what's making you so angry?'' 

 

“I’m not angry.” Kyou snapped.

 

Yahaba giggled.

 

“ _ Fuck off _ .”

 

He rolled his eyes. They were walking home to Yahabas because his parents were in central Tokyo the next two days for a conference within their design company, and Kyoutanis sister was staying with her aunt. Their schedules never lined up this well, so even if Kyoutani was literally ready to kill him, he’d still drag him along. 

 

He bumped into his side “Ok, well I’ll tell you why  _ I’m  _ angry.”

 

Kyoutani cocked an eyebrow.

Yahaba bit the bullet.

 

“It’s frustrating when I can't just have everything go by my plans, now that things are so busy with the team and exams and university and… us. So it can all test my patience, and... That’s really childish, so I need to move on and get that everyone is has their own aspiration. And you’re not the best... But you’re the best for me.”

 

He clasped his hands, looking away from the boy by his side, hiding his teary eyes. The afternoon sky was the colour of their shirts; pale periwinkle, moments away from sunset.

 

“And… honestly, I’m really scared of putting myself… into someone who might not want me back. And that doesn’t excuse my behaviour but it might explain it? I mean… I don’t mean to drift but… what if we break up because everything gets too much, and-and I never want to lose you. I mean you’re  _ gay _ , and I don’t even have the right parts and next year-”

 

“Shut up,” Kyoutani cut him off, “I mean, listen idiot. I don’t know where this is coming from, but none of it’s true. You don’t get to put words in my mouth, because I decide whether I want you or not, and I do, and I don’t want anyone else to have you,  _ ever _ . You’re mine. I love you and I’m so sorry I don’t ‘get’ dysphoria and how hard it must be. But you’re a boy, and you always have been and will be. And I just. I fucking love you and I’m sorry, ok?”

 

Yahaba whispered, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

 

A sudden silence fell on the pair. He said the last part so softly he wondered if Kyoutani hadn’t heard him, or he was offended and Yahabas nerves began to accumulate again and he still hadn’t looked at him yet and  _ oh god _ what if he fucked it up, until he felt a large hand wrap around his own, saying all that needed to be said.

 

\--

 

Arriving home, they didn’t need to announce themselves, and Yahaba immediately dropped his bags at the door. His family lived in a modern town house near the newer suburbs, a white western style, two story with a small front terrace. The two bedrooms included Yahabas and were upstairs separated by the main bathroom. 

 

It was only himself, as his parents were away, and they were pleased to hear Yahaba would have someone to keep him company. Kyoutanis home didn’t need so much as a text. It was just him and his kid sister, and had been that way for a while. 

 

Yahaba strolled into the open living space after hitting the lights. He stood squinting in the harsh kitchen glare, hand on a cocked out hip. He gestured to the refrigerator.

 

“Well, mum left microwave meals in the freezer, if you can start them because I need to change and can’t cook for shit”   
  


“I’m aware.”

 

“I told you our fire alarms are overly- Kyou! Don’t you smirk!” 

 

Kyoutani couldn’t help break into laughter at the absolute indignance on Yahabas face. Even Yahaba grinned. 

 

He trudged up the stairs while Kyoutani got started. Kyoutani usually wouldn’t play as Yahabas slave but the threat of the house being burnt down was more than enough motivation.

 

Once he got to his room he sighed at the incomparable relief of stripping of his uniform and binder, breathing in freely. He changed into some track pants and loose shirt that swallowed most of his figure. He was frowning at the small swell of chest, sprawled on his bed when Kyoutani kicked the door open balancing two rice dishes. He set them on Yahabas side table and crawled beside him.

 

Kyotani usually getting back well after his sister meant he left her dinner in the fridge to be reheated, so it was nice eating dinner in Yahabas room together, as usually both of them ate by themselves. Maybe having to watch ‘The Vampire Diaries’ on the TV in the corner of the room wasn’t great but it made Yahaba happy. 

 

His room was decently sized, all furnished in clean, white lines, courtesy of his mother's scheming. Despite this it was distinctly  _ him _ , Kyoutani always noticed, with posters of volleyball stars and photo’s from years of friendships, his mirror framed with postcards from art galleries, headboard graced with wire fairy lights.  His desk had jars of felt tips despite knowing Yahaba didn’t draw, and his desk chair had a ‘ _ world's best daddy _ ’ pillow that never failed to make Kyoutani retch.

 

“I hate that pillow,” Kyoutani grumbled.

 

“Well, the pillow hates you too,” He drawled. “I’ll take these to the dishwasher, be right back... Surely you’ll entertain yourself until then.” Yahaba winked at the blushing boy, dodging the cursed pillow that was violently thrown, and slunk out of the room laughing.

 

Kyoutani became suddenly very aware of the fact he was alone with Yahaba the whole night.

 

When the setter returned, he pressed up against Kyoutani and yawned into his chest. Kyoutani would never admit how cute he looked at times like this; he was like a big, sleepy cat. His warm brown eyes all innocent and heavy lidded, his fluffy hair tickling Kyoutani’s chin with his puffs of breath. He stroked a hand through Yahabas stupid creampuff hair and felt him lean into the touch. 

 

Their love was something people didn't understand. It wasn't volatile; it was heated in the most beautiful way possible; Not solely explosive, but sometimes warm like a softly glowing candle. They crashed and clawed, compromised and and synchronized wonderfully. They matched, flawed themselves but perfect for the other.

 

Yahaba brushed his thumb along Kyoutani’s jawline and the shaven skin. He looked so unearthly in the evenings last reaches of sunset, all golden eyes and hair and skin.

 

“Did you bring spare clothes?” He murmured into the crook of his collared neck, sliding a hand up his school shirt. 

 

“Do you just want to see me get changed?” 

 

Yahaba could feel the jackass grinning into his head. 

 

“Well, yeah, kinda,” He admitted, reveling in the hummingbird sound of Kyoutani’s heart under his ear. 

 

Kyoutani really was endearing flustered when it came to any kind of intimacy. Holding hands meant Yahaba had to hide his smile at how damp Kyoutani’s hands would grow, and so much as a word of praise or a pat on the back could result in near combustion. It spurred on Yahaba to encourage this, not only to watch in glee as Kyoutani blushed impossibly dark, but to also to let the touch-starved boy know that intimacy didn’t have to hurt him. He was safe with Yahaba.

 

The hand gently resting on Kyoutani’s chest flitted down to his waist band, nailing scraping slightly on the tanned skin of his abdominals. Looking up rewarded him with Kyoutani’s flushed face looking hungrily at his lips. He couldn’t help himself teasingly pushing up to brush an open mouthed kiss to the edge of his mouth. 

 

Kyoutani flipped him over so he was balancing on his elbows, leaning down to press their mouths together in a messy kiss. Yahaba brung a slender hand to wrap around the nape of Kyoutanis neck, holding him as close as he can while he flicks his tongue at the seam of the others lips. Sucking the spiker’s tongue into his mouth rewards him with a throaty moan, dark and eager. Spit smears across their mouths making wet sucking noises that make it increasingy difficult to think straight. He makes a mistake opening his eyes to Kyoutani’s heated gaze, those coal eyes drinking in his reactions; it's enough to make his boxer briefs feel sticky.

 

He’d hate to admit it, but Kyoutani’s a good fuck. All his aggression and strength translates incredibly well. His thick fingers and broad tongue take him apart so well, seemingly without him realizing. Not only that, but he’s actually not inconsiderate. He never does anything without permission and he eagerly seeks Yahabas pleasure first. Nothing gets him off more than seeing Yahaba need him, being taken care of by him, and coming completely undone by his hands. 

 

Yahaba, coltish and charming with his boyish good looks, his full pink lips being abused by Kyoutani’s insatiable hunger. He draws the full bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles at it before sucking fading marks into the length of his neck. When he hears Yahaba whine in over stimulation he moves onto the smooth skin of his collarbones, finally allowed to leave blooms of bruising watercolour where only he can see. 

 

The fine bones around his neck are attacked by Kyoutani’s teeth and tongue, turning red from his work and Yahaba's flush. The boy beneath his is breathing heavily, occasionally stifling a gasp, but Kyoutani want’s more, so he shifts to press a thigh between Yahaba's leg and grinds down, both of them moaning the friction. He bites into Yahabas slim shoulders and he jerks suddenly in response. Kyoutani can feel his head clouding from how aroused he is, pressing against Yahabas thigh. 

 

He kisses back up to the setters petal-soft lips, their mouths moving slowly in tandem until a slender hand palms him through his pants and he reflexively nips at Yahabas lips, drawing blood.

 

“Ouch! What the fuck?” Yahaba pants, still dazed, tonguing at his bloody split lip. 

 

“Shit, I’m--”

 

Kyoutani looks mortified at hurting Yahaba, ready to beg for forgiveness, until he sees something strange flicker in those glazed eyes and Yahaba smiles deviously up at him.

 

He teases his lissome hands up the Kyoutani’s clothed chest before scrunching his hands in the collar and bringing his lips up to the sensitive whorl of his ear.

 

“Maybe I need to muzzle you? Hmm?”

 

Kyoutani sneers at his growing smirk, face growing hot. His tongue feels numb in his mouth at moments like this, when Yahaba begins blooming into a teasing succubus.

 

The boy pushes Kyoutani onto his back and straddles him, looking up at him beneath his lashes. 

 

“I doubt anything could stop you from biting, and growling… Are you really so feral?”

 

He knows Yahaba is goading him, trying to get a reaction, but he’ll be damned if it doesn't work. The way he looks down on him with blood smeared lips and glinting teeth makes him wonder who truly is the one untamed. 

 

Only Yahaba could make him this hungry. He’s beyond eager at this point with Yahaba warm weight on his crotch, buckling down as he snakes his hands around Kyoutani’s neck. 

 

“Would smothering you work?  _ I  _ think It would… You’re such a  _ good boy _ when your mouth is occupied,” He murmurs sweetly, looking with glazed eyes at the front of Kyoutani’s school pants, a small wet patch beginning to form where the tip is straining against the material.

 

“You have a fucking filthy mouth,” He growls back.

 

“Actually, you will in a minute.” 

 

Yahaba laughs at how red Kyoutani is, flushed from his ears to his down to where the top of his chest is exposed. He almost looks in pain. Yahaba kicks his clothes off onto the floor so he’s only clad in his boxer briefs, white but growing clear where slick soaks the thin fabric.

 

Looking out his window, he can tell it’s getting late, leaving him a whole night with his boyfriend. His guts churn with aching anticipation at the notion.

 

His thoughts are cut away from the indigo sky when a strong finger trails from perineum to clit over the damp fabric, the wonderful drag of friction drawing a surprised cry from him.

 

“Hurry up,” Kyoutani says roughly.

 

The spiker grabs him by the hips with those strong arms, tendons straining in desperation. He pulls Yahaba's lithe body up to his collar bones and nuzzles at the soft skin of his lower abdomen. Then he starts pressing bruising kisses down to Yahaba’s briefs before looking up at him for permission.

 

Yahaba shakily looks down at those dark eyes, flared nostrils, kiss-swollen lips, and feels almost nauseous with need. How could he say no?

 

“Oh my god, please,” He moans. 

 

That’s all it takes for Kyoutani to snap, sharply pulling off Yahaba’s briefs down those slim legs and throwing them down. He’s greeted by Yahaba’s pussy, perfect and pink. The lips are swollen with arousal and when he parts them he sees all the flushed wetness just begging to be tasted. So he grips the back of Yahabas thighs and pulls him so his mound is above Kyoutani’s mouth. 

 

Yahaba lowered himself slowly, Kyoutani’s nose brushing his clit, opening him up like a live nerve. He shuddered violently as the feeling. 

  
  
  
  


He mouths at the sopping flesh, licking in broad strokes down between the pretty folds. Yahaba grips the headboard to steady himself, feeling exposed and sensitive on his mouth, and by leaning forward Kyoutani’s teeth brush feather-light on his clit. He can’t help the choked sob that tears from his throat, and begins to set a rhythm. He grinds up and down on that warm tongue, feeling small sparks go off until Kyoutani stills him by holding a leg in each strong hand. 

 

“Don’t stop!”

 

Kyoutani just chuckles, but it’s muffled by Yahaba’s cunt, creating heavy vibrations that make him moan into his hand. 

 

He starts with flicking his tongue on his swollen cit, becoming sensitive and turgid with blood. Soon he starts licking lower, starting towards the dripping hole. As he licks arcs around the little hole, needily clutching around air, he digs his fingers bruisingly into the supple flesh of Yahaba's thighs, sure to leave reminders for days to come.

 

Spurred on by needy whines, he traces the rim with his tongue before dipping in teasingly. There’s so much fluid flowing, sweet juices that taste like nectarines and make Kyoutani forget about his own leaking cock he’s grinding against the seam of his trousers. He slowly begins to fuck Yahaba with his tongue, walls clenching around his fat tongue.

 

Yahaba is moaning above him, and he loves doing this, ruining him and wrecking him for anyone else. 

 

By now, Yahaba is grinding frantically into that hot mouth, filled with a mess of saliva and his juices. Kyoutani brings his thumb up to the boys clit and begins pulses of pressure that render Yahaba useless, only seeking his orgasm. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, Kentarou! F-feels so good,  _ you’re  _ so good!” He chokes out, gripping the spikers cropped hair for all he’s worth.

 

He can’t help but groan into that tight heat, and slip in two fingers to replace his tongue, pressing into that spot he knows will leave Yahaba an overstimulated heap.

 

That’s all it takes and Yahaba is pulled against Kyoutani’s face with a silent scream, tremors racking his body as he comes  _ hard,  _ riding out his peak _.  _ He whites-out for a moment and comes to when he hears a pained noise and pulls off Kyoutani’s face with trembling legs. 

 

“Oh! Are you o-- Fuck, Kyou, oh my god,” He stammers.

 

He thought he must have hurt Kyoutani, leaving him without much air or put too much weight on him. The sight of the spikers exhausted face covered in slick isn’t exactly alarming but it makes him feels even weaker than he already is. What catches his attention is the front of Kyoutani’s school pants, dark and wet with his load, coming completely untouched as Yahaba  _ felt  _ those hands on him the whole time. His head swims for a moment and he leans down to kiss his boyfriend slowly, lapping at the mess he made.

 

“You’re amazing you know? I can’t believe you just-- Fuck, that was so hot,” Yahaba says to him.

 

Kyoutani blushed, and mumbled something before lying next to Yahaba.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I need to use your washing machine.” He growls, mildly mortified.

  
Yahaba bursts our laughing, and Kyoutani punches him in the arm.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> How many dog references can I pull out. The answer will surprise you.
> 
> Hi!!! I would like constructive criticism!! Be wary it is very late and I haven't re-read so jinkies. (Tell me if there are gramartical errors or dumb slip ups in the story!!please!!)  
> Also so I had like a dozen meltdowns while writing this bc my family is all home and I’m scared I’ve shared this with my dad, so if you’re reading this dad, hit that mf kudos.


End file.
